Try, Try Again
by bluecharlotte
Summary: Five times Tony thought Bruce might've been considering suicide and the one time he definitely was. Post-movie.
1. Prologue

Title: Try, Try Again

Description: Five times Tony thought Bruce might've been considering suicide and the one time he definitely was. Post-movie.

Rating: M for language and dark themes. Will have 7 chapters total, including this one**.  
**

* * *

[0] Prologue: Uneasy

* * *

Having Bruce in the tower with him was an interesting experience. The fact that someone other than Jarvis actually understood everything he was doing was definitely a first. Sure, Pepper was great and she knew some of it, but Tony wasn't going to lie to himself and pretend she could keep up with him on his more complex work in R & D. Bruce could. And Bruce was a genuinely good guy, fun to hang around with and easy to connect to (at least for Tony). They saw eye-to-eye on a lot of subjects. But there was one thing about Dr. Banner that had always made Tony uneasy.

Believe it or not, it was not the whole 'turning into a green rage monster' thing. _That_ he was okay with, and he trusted Bruce completely. What made him nervous as hell was the depression.

And fuck anyone who tried to tell him otherwise, because damn it, it was _depression_. He worked with the man a lot in the months after the invasion, and it was hard to miss the moments when he just looked dead inside. Bruce would try to hide it behind self-deprecating remarks and cynicism and anger jokes, but when their eyes met Tony could see the self-loathing and absolute defeat there. It was like something in Bruce had just given up on everything. And it made Tony feel sick.

He made a habit out of scolding Bruce for self-effacing comments and tried to bring up his friend's mood in whatever way possible, but that didn't stop him from worrying. And it sure as hell didn't stop him from remembering his chilling words.

'_So you're saying that the Hulk, the Other Guy, saved my life? That's nice. It's a nice sentiment. Save it for what?'_

'_I got low. I didn't see an end, so I put a bullet in my mouth, and the other guy spit it out.'_

Because Bruce had tried to kill himself before. _Fuck_, he'd tried to _kill_ himself. He'd put the barrel of a gun between his lips and pulled the trigger, completely prepared to never see the world again. The thought of this always made Tony's gut twist uncomfortably, the fact that one of his closest friends had felt that way and probably _still did_ sometimes. What made it worse was there was nothing he could do about it. And he was goddamn uneasy and sick with himself for thinking it, but sometimes when Bruce was having a bad day and there was darkness in his eyes and Tony was desperately hoping for something to brighten it up, an old proverb would come to mind:

_If at first you don't succeed...  
_


	2. Roof

[1] Roof

* * *

The first time took him totally off guard. He may have been scared for Bruce or concerned about him some of the time, but he'd come to accept the fact that his friend could take care of himself. His suicide attempt wasn't something that Tony thought about often; it was a thing of the past, and now that he and Bruce were working together all that mattered was their friendship, which had always been free of judgment.

That night, though, the anxiety returned. He had hardly seen his friend during the day, and in the short conversation they'd had in the morning Bruce had seemed distant and troubled. He probably wouldn't have been so worried, but Bruce didn't show up for dinner. The doctor didn't always stay the night and often left Tony and Pepper to dine alone, but he practically always said what he was doing. And Tony hadn't heard a word, either from Bruce or from Jarvis.

"He did not respond earlier when I asked if he was joining you for dinner," the A.I. had told them.

Pepper picked up on it, and she might've been slightly worried too. "Look, if you're still dwelling on it you could go check on him."

"No, I just... I'm sure he's fine. He just forgot, is all."

It was maybe ten minutes later when Jarvis' voice interrupted their meal. "Sir?"

"Yes, Jarvis?"

"I find it prudent to tell you that Doctor Banner is standing at the edge of the roof."

"_What?_"

"Doctor Banner is two floors above you, and there is less than a foot between him and empty space. I judge this to be an unsafe distance, given the wind and Doctor Banner's... other factors."

Tony opened and closed his mouth. _Other factors_. Jarvis had refrained from saying anything specific with Pepper there, but Tony knew he was referring to Bruce's _psychological condition_, as he usually put it. "I need to go up there."

Pepper looked confused and perturbed, but she trusted that Tony knew what he was doing. "Okay."

Less than a minute later Tony was striding across the roof toward the silhouette of a man standing tall against city lights. "Bruce?"

The man started slightly at the sound of his name, taking a step away from the edge of Stark Tower but not turning around. "Oh, hey Tony," he said gruffly, "What're you doing out here?"

_Just making sure you're alive. _"I don't know; it's a nice night."

"Yeah, that's why I came up. I mean, I'm still not used to being in such a huge city... it's crazy," Bruce muttered, looking out and putting his hands in his pockets with a wry smile.

Tony swallowed and nodded, and couldn't help but think back: _the last time I was in New York, I kind of broke Harlem._ He didn't know if he was imagining the tenseness in Bruce's shoulders, so he looked out at the city for a reason to stay and find out. Strangely enough, he found his gaze falling to Bruce's feet where they were still essentially a step away from the edge. There was nothing in the way to stop him. _What if he was going to...?_

When he finally looked back up he found that Bruce had been watching him. Their eyes met, and the doctor gave him an appraising look, raising an eyebrow in that sardonic way of his.

_Fuck, of course he knows why I'm here; he's not an idiot._ Tony honestly wanted to hug Bruce when he didn't say anything about it. _Note to self: never assume Bruce is thinking about killing himself._

Little did he know, it would not be the last time.


	3. Pills

[2] Pills

* * *

Things went on normally for about a week. Bruce kept helping Tony increase the arc reactor's efficiency (its predicted lifespan was already up to five years) and made some headway in his own research on inelastic collisions and gamma radiation. Occasionally they got together to test out a random idea and ended up talking with no real aims in mind. It was comfortable, and Tony was grateful to Pepper for trusting Bruce so easily and incorporating him into their routine.

One of the many aspects of having the man living with them part-time was mornings. It was incredibly amusing to sit across from a messy-haired and not completely cognizant Bruce Banner at breakfast, particularly because the doctor was so carefully controlled at all other hours of the day. Tony couldn't help but be proud of the jabs he made at his friend while he was in such a state, and may have bragged about it a little to Pepper. Well, maybe more than a little, but it was warranted—and surprising Bruce when he was half-awake was ridiculously fun.

Mornings also meant medication. Even after over two months of seeing Bruce down his pills, Tony still had no idea precisely what they were. The first time he'd seen them had been one of the first days Bruce had stayed over. Tony remembered clearly the collection of three or four capsules on the table, how he'd casually asked _'what're those?'_ from behind his mug of Columbian coffee. Bruce's reply had been rather vague: '_just some meds I've been taking, __benzodiazepines.'_

For a while Tony was slightly concerned that Bruce was addicted to the anti-anxiety drugs—one of which was probably Valium or the like—but he realized he didn't even see them every day, and Bruce was too responsible to do something so reckless. He also respected the man's privacy too much to peek regardless of any jokes he made about it, so he remained totally ignorant for a long time. Soon enough the pills had completely dropped off his radar.

Then came the moment when suddenly they were all he could think about. He was having trouble sleeping that night for reasons unbeknownst to him. It was about 2:00 in the morning when he finally gave up, creeping slowly out of bed so as not to disturb Pepper and slinking down the hallway to the kitchen. The dimmed nightlights were already on, strangely enough—_Bruce_. He'd put him on the same floor for various reasons (convenience, camaraderie, safety, heating). But it was two hours past midnight and Bruce was in the kitchen, which was definitely unusual.

As he neared the low glow of the room Tony cursed the foreboding feeling that had come over him. He knew it was unfair that he thought the worst every time Bruce so much as blinked, but that didn't stop him from doing so. He reminded himself that the roof incident had happened less than ten days earlier and that it'd been a _total fluke_, but he was still nervous as he stepped into the kitchen and saw the physicist leaning over the marble countertop.

Bruce looked completely _exhausted_, for starters, shoulders slumped and legs bent, and he was clearly resting a good portion of his weight on his elbows and the counter as he lazily shuffled through—

Tony's anxiety increased tenfold when it hit him what Bruce was looking at. So many fucking _pills_. There were at least seven different bottles on the countertop, and that didn't include the one Bruce was now holding as he dumped a few more capsules onto the growing pile—_holy fuck what is he doing—_on his palm. There were dozens of them, almost indistinguishable in the low light, but Tony was sure they were all different colors and sizes.

Once Bruce was done with the bottle he set it down with a soft _clack. _Then he lifted his hand higher, examining the collection of what Tony realized had to be something like thirty capsules and tablets, if not more. And they were _so_ _close_ to his mouth. In his frantic, sleep-deprived state of mind Tony could only come up with one explanation, and it flooded his senses with panic.

_Don't, it's not going to work, what the fuck do you think you're doing Bruce_—

But no sound would come out; his throat had gone dry. He could only watch as Bruce pushed himself to his full height, flexing his free hand in a fist before gathering the bottles together on the counter. He closed his fingers over the pills he'd collected and then he was turning in the direction of the fridge, toward water to swallow the pills with, turning—

_Oh, shit._

When Bruce saw him he didn't even jump, just stepped back slightly, eyebrows shooting up. If Tony could talk he'd probably be complaining about the lack of reaction. "Tony! What're you doing up?" It was a completely normal question, but he cleared his throat and found that he couldn't answer. The other man was taken aback, probably expecting a sarcastic response. "Tony...?"

He struggled for a moment before his voice finally prevailed, sounding rough even to his own ears. "Um, couldn't sleep. Go figure. What're you doing with those?" He couldn't stop glancing between his friend's right hand and the cluster of bottles on the counter behind him. From Bruce's relaxed stance and casual tone of voice, Tony had to conclude that he was mistaken about what was going on.

"They're expired," Bruce deadpanned. He raised his hand and opened it, palm up. "Well, these ones are." Glancing at the collection of pills, it occurred to Tony that they were actually all the same kind. _Paranoid._ "I have too many sleeping pills, obviously. Most of them don't really work. They're also insanely disorganized and mixed with my other meds." He strode by Tony as he spoke, his actual destination having been not the fridge but the trash, where he promptly tossed the handful of medication. "I'm just so damn sick of nightmares."

"We should have an insomnia party," Tony said solemnly, not so much to be funny as to express sympathy and try to distract him.

Bruce scoffed. "That sounds exciting."

He shrugged and tried not to grin. Despite the bitter edge to Bruce's voice, Tony was relieved by the turn of events. "Oh, you know it." _I'm just glad you're okay._


	4. Gun

[3] Gun

* * *

Tony made a habit of keeping his distance from firearms. After the kidnapping and his radical change in thinking he had begun avoiding lethal weapons—well, other than those necessary for his suit. There was a vault in Stark Tower reserved for the remaining munitions from his business, but he kept it under lock and key and he intended to keep it that way. He knew they'd do more harm than good in the wrong hands.

Because of this, he was completely unprepared for the calamity of that day.

Actually, the day had been going rather well until _it_ happened. He and Bruce had dinner with Brian Greene (1), a theoretical physicist from Columbia University, and got back to Stark Tower while still discussing string theory. It started going downhill when Bruce referenced something from Einstein's Theory of Relativity. Tony said Bruce had remembered it wrong, more for the sake of argument than anything else. This led to an idiotic and altogether hilarious conversation that lasted at least fifteen minutes. It only ended when Pepper had had enough and cut in:

"If you can't decide who's right, why don't you check?"

"I _knew_ there was a reason I kept you around!" He paired the statement with an infuriatingly endearing grin.

"Oh, shut up, Tony, you know you'd be nowhere without me. Social security number, remember? What did you think it was? _Five_, right?" He scowled when Bruce laughed and murmured agreement, but he couldn't deny the pull of affection in the pit of his stomach.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

Tony was going to ask Jarvis to look up the book, but Bruce said he had a paper copy—_imagine that_—in his room, so they might as well use it. The two of them ended up there, Tony watching as Bruce pulled Einstein's famous work from his bedside table.

People could say what they liked about him, but Tony was reasonably observant when it came to things he cared about. So it didn't go over his head when Bruce abruptly froze in surprise, his jaw clenching slightly as he stared down into the drawer. He also noticed the quick glance Bruce shot at him, as though to make sure he hadn't seen it. Something had obviously thrown him off. And Tony wanted to know what it was. He managed to force down curiosity and worry with a joke about physics in bed, but he resolved to find out what had caused the agitated look later.

They brought the Theory of Relativity back to the living room and found that Bruce was right after all, which didn't really bother Tony. (Maybe it was a little ridiculous how argumentative he was, but it was all in good fun.) It was just after ten o'clock when _later_ came around—Bruce stood to put his copy of the book back in his room, murmuring a soft '_be back in a minute_.' Tony, being the gracious person he was famed to be, offered to go for him. He was relieved when Bruce agreed, having seemingly forgotten—or decided not to care—about the contents of the drawer.

Thus began _it_ happening. Had Tony been someone with a less ridiculous sense of curiosity who actually cared about boundaries, it was likely that nothing would've happened at all. But he wasn't; he was Tony Stark and he wanted to know what the hell was in there. So Tony found himself opening the drawer and feeling cold dread steal air from his lungs.

There was a goddamn _pistol_ in the drawer, a .45 automatic from the looks of it. For what felt like the fiftieth time, Tony remembered. _'I put a bullet in my mouth...'_

"Why the _fuck_—" He didn't want to think about the implications but his mind betrayed him. _There's a fucking handgun in his bedside table. _The only thing he could see was Bruce loading the gun and setting it there for a time when he could try again, hoping it would do its job right. _Holy shit this isn't okay at all_—

"Tony!" He turned to see the gun's owner walking toward him, a suitably panicked look on his face. _So he remembers now. Of course._ Bruce cringed. "I... this is _not_ what you think it is."

Tony could only stare with wide eyes, a crease between his eyebrows. "Would you care to _explain_ then?" he prompted, maybe a little more sharply than he'd intended.

"Look, I..." Bruce ran a hand through his hair sheepishly. "I know there's _no_ reason I'd need any kind of...weapon to defend myself here, and I'm completely safe, but I just—I feel secure with it, for some reason. I used to bring it everywhere I went—I mean, even knowing it wouldn't do any good. It's for sentimental reasons more than anything else. Just one of those things I've always had close."

_Like when you tried to blow your brains out with it?_

Despite his bitter mindset, Tony was left speechless for a moment as Bruce's words sunk in. The physicist thought he was mad at him because he didn't seem to feel safe in Stark Tower. Bruce hadn't even thought of his admission—

Suddenly Tony felt very, very stupid. Why would Bruce try to off himself again with a gun? If he had shot a bullet _into his mouth_ and it hadn't worked, then how the hell could it _ever_ work? _Wow, that must've made him feel like shit. Wanting to die and being stuck..._

But Bruce was a highly intelligent man. If he really wanted to kill himself he'd find a way, wouldn't he?

No, he didn't dare think about that.

Realizing that he'd been silent for nearly ten seconds, Tony spoke up. "Yeah, I understand. If it makes you feel better, then by all means keep it. I was just surprised, I guess. Though it _did_ support my sneaking suspicion that you're secretly a Tibetan spy." A slight smirk pulled at the edge of his mouth as he went on. "And I mean, come _on_. I was looking through your stuff! You should be angry with me, Bruce. Aren't you just _enraged_ right now?"

Bruce shrugged, brow furrowed in mock indecision. "Yeah, sorry, not quite. But you're getting there."

* * *

(1) Brian Greene is real. I thought hey, famous scientist in New York, Tony should know him.

A/N: Two more till the real thing! I have this mostly planned out, but I'm open to ideas for false alarms you'd like to see, so your input is welcome. I really appreciate you guys reading and reviewing. It means a lot!


	5. Pool

[4] Pool

* * *

It had never really crossed Tony's mind that there were dangerous places in Stark Tower. Strange, expensive, useless, extravagant, ridiculous, yes—but dangerous? The only hazardous aspect of his living space had to be his lab, and even that had safety precautions in case he was thrown across the room or caught on fire.

So he shouldn't have been very concerned that Bruce could hurt himself anywhere on the premises (aside from the roof, but that had already been confirmed as an idiotic notion). Additionally, he knew Bruce was cautious enough that if he wanted to try something stupid he'd probably leave in case he hulked out in the process. Tony had no real reason to worry about anything; he'd already reassured himself of that fact countless times. And the last place in his home that he would ever think to call "dangerous" was his _pool_.

All the same, Tony was worried about it.

It wasn't really the pool alone that worried him. It was a very stormy night, which always upped his anxiety, and Bruce had _never_ gone swimming there before, so why now? It just seemed strange in general. Bruce had been working on a project of his own near Tony's main R&D lab, testing his blood for something or other, when he'd spontaneously asked if he could go use the pool. He'd looked unnerved, jaw slightly clenched and gaze lingering on the wall behind Tony, and when Tony had replied in the affirmative he'd been gone before any questions could be asked.

A few minutes later when he was walking down a hallway, the only thing Tony could recall that Bruce had said was _"thanks, Tony. I really appreciate it." _ His gaze had been piercing and full of loss for the split second that their eyes had met and _what did that mean?_

He kind of hated himself right now, really, because what right did he have to worry? He didn't. Bruce was a responsible man and he was absolutely fine. This had already happened multiple times and they had _all_ been false alarms. But he couldn't help but remember the haunted look on Bruce's face when he'd seen his old gun, easily accessible in his drawer, and wonder: was this really all in the past?

For Tony, at least, it certainly wasn't. But that was his own damn fault.

The storm outside made him uneasy as he neared his destination, reminding him of times caught in the tumultuous sky and left vulnerable to the elements while people lived in peaceful ignorance far below. When he finally reached the door to his private pool a loud crash of thunder made him jump, his hand shaking on the doorknob. He stilled it with a resolute look and a deep breath, tightening his grip.

As he opened the door, something occurred to him. _My pool can be opened to the sky. There's a massive thunderstorm outside right now._

_Water + lightning = (an easy way out)_

"Bruce!" He stepped toward the echo of his voice, heart palpitating incessantly against his ribcage. No reply came. Water drops hit his cheek in a random pattern; he glanced up and felt vaguely dizzy when he saw that Bruce had indeed opened up the ceiling. His ingenious design, which allowed an opening just big enough to encompass the pool's size, seemed crazily stupid now.

_Water + lightning = (death)_

"Bruce?" The man Tony was looking for was lying on his back in the water, eyes closed and ears beneath the surface, lost in a dark and muffled world. Tony saw red. He hurried to press the button on the wall that closed the ceiling, causing the silent contraption to start moving. Only when it had closed completely with a soft _click_ did he feel at all relieved, but immediately he turned back to scrutinize Bruce. _You'd better be alive, you bastard._ The man in question seemed not to have heard a sound, but he shifted slightly in the water, sending ripples out from his form and letting Tony breathe again. To himself he muttered softly, "Fuck, Banner."

Once he was sure that Bruce was fine Tony slowly retreated from the room. He didn't want to bother him. Clearly, he'd been pissed about something and had just needed somewhere to relax. He was still looking for a cure, Tony knew, and the search was often fruitless and frustrating. Tony's pool was a perfect place for an escape. Hell, he'd designed it specifically _for_ that, and of course Bruce knew he'd understand when he needed somewhere to be alone.

"_Thanks, Tony. I really appreciate it."_ Now he felt a little bit like a jerk. Well. He was Tony Stark; he was _the_ jerk.

He was also far, far too paranoid.

Tony vowed to never let this happen again, for his own sake as well as for Bruce's. It wasn't fair to either of them...he was sure of that.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the wait, everyone. School has been killing me. I hope it was worth it! Someone asked if this will include the other Avengers, so I thought I'd tell you-they might be mentioned, but the focus is Tony and Bruce. I appreciate all the awesome suggestions, and thanks for reading!


	6. Bomb

[5] Bomb

It was a little absurd how little weight Tony gave to time, but the truth was still there. Bruce had been staying with him for over four months now. Not that he had any issue with his friend still being there; it was the opposite, really. But he didn't know what to think—even _how_ to think. Because he'd seen him almost every day for over four months, and still, every time, every _single_ time Tony thought he actually knew the man, Bruce pulled something new and five times more frightening out of thin air. A phrase, a pause, a too-sharp laugh. It had to be insignificant, right?

Of course, Tony knew better than that; nothing is ever insignificant, not really. He was sure (read: had convinced himself) that Bruce wouldn't try anything again or hurt himself intentionally... but that didn't mean he wasn't still concerned, if only about the darkness in Bruce's eyes, the harm he surely inflicted on himself in his own head. Every dark look or unanswered question was turned inside out and backwards. Searching for anything, really, that could help him fix whatever was broken, if that was even possible anymore. That was all he'd wanted to do since they'd met, really. To figure him out, to make Bruce see just how lucky he was to be _alive_.

But all he'd gotten so far were false smiles where there should've been smirks, silence where there should've been words, and excuses where there should've been explanations. They didn't come often, Bruce's slips, but they were there, and they scratched a nervous tick into Tony's head that made him stay up thinking late into the night.

Drinking, too. He was drinking more than he should've been, he knew. He always drank, working or not, but it wasn't so much for fun anymore as for—well. Pepper was noticing, but he hoped she'd hold off on interrogations and worries and _don't-do-this-to-yourself-again-Tony_'s a bit longer. Anyway, he didn't think he could stop, not with the way things were progressing.

In the past week or so Bruce had taken to sneaking off to his private lab at all hours of the day and night. Tony did this too, occasionally, but it couldn't be healthy with the way the doctor looked most mornings. It was absurd. Fucking _absurd_. He'd be pale and there'd be bags under his eyes and his hands would be shaking—almost imperceptibly, fighting not to, but shaking all the same. And Tony would know that he hadn't slept more than a few hours, that he'd drawn too much blood again (not that he had any idea what Bruce was up to, besides testing his own blood ten times past his ability to cope). Tony would look across his kitchen counter at Bruce with eyebrows raised and furrowed, expectant, but he always ended up smirking his way through the lack of actual response and Bruce would only smile back with that cynical, self-deprecating smile of his and smoothly change the subject.

He didn't know how the man managed to be so fucking aggravating all the time. Or so strong, really, because the weight of whatever load he was carrying had to be greater than any Tony had ever encountered, and the Hulk wasn't around to help Bruce out with it—not lately, anyway.

But Bruce never complained, and Tony never spoke up about it, despite his many failed attempts.

He knew tiptoeing around his friend wasn't doing shit. It had to be pissing him off, too, and while Tony usually supported that, he knew it was wrong. Soon he'd reach a breaking point and just confront Bruce about what he was doing to himself. But he had to find a tactful way to bring it up, or else risk pushing him away. Consequently, tactful was pretty much the epitome of what _wasn't_ Tony Stark, especially when it mattered. He'd spent about two days scrambling for the right moment and the right words and the right _tact_ when something shoved these notions completely out of his head. A rather typical something, really: fucking S.H.I.E.L.D. Fucking _Nick Fury_.

He shouldn't have been surprised, but he was. It was only the second time the man had contacted him since they'd all saved the planet, but this time it was a call for help rather than idle chitchat.

All because of some douche named _Igor Drenkov_.

But, well, at least they had something to do now.

Alright, so maybe they'd been doing things, many research-related, possibly future-altering things, but this was a solid task. If they'd met up anywhere but at his place, Tony was afraid that he and Bruce would've been the first to arrive—they were that eager. Tony because he was squirming at the thought of theoretical conversations, and Bruce because—well, Tony wasn't exactly sure why, but he knew he'd find out soon enough.

The only other person Fury called was Rogers, seeing as Thor was home with his alien family and Barton and Romanoff were off somewhere in the Middle East or maybe Hawaii doing something important while Tony built their rooms into Stark Tower (unbeknownst to them, but whatever, they'd use them or they wouldn't, as would the others). It also occurred to Tony that sending all six of the Avengers to deal with one crazy physicist might be too much.

Fury quickly filled them in on Drenkov, giving only the basics. He had been a Russian Soviet spy for the Gargoyle almost two decades back, posing as a scientist at the American gamma bomb testing center where Bruce had worked. He'd been found out and jailed at the time, but he'd escaped a few weeks ago and gotten his hands on the gamma bomb formula. Whether he was still working for the Soviets they had no idea, but he'd just created a gamma bomb large enough to blow up a good portion of New York City and planted it at the center of Washington Square Park. It was set to go off in an hour and a half. S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were already there, but they hadn't been lucky so far. Fury hoped that Bruce could lend a hand in disarming the bomb—no need for the Hulk yet, he said, trying to play to Bruce's sympathies, but it didn't seem to make the man feel any better. Bruce clearly knew more about Drenkov than the other two did, and he wasn't pretending otherwise. Nonetheless, his response was something Tony was entirely unprepared for, one loaded with angry accusations.

_Well, fuck, but he's always angry, isn't he?_

"What about Drenkov? These two know nothing about this maniac and what he's capable of, and I'm sorry, what you just told them isn't gonna help. I may have expertise in gamma bombs, but it's more about the _schematics_, Fury... I'm not a damn bomb technician! And I'm definitely not as stupid as you seem to think I am. You clearly want to keep me away from him. Why? D'you think I'm gonna lose control and ruin it? Do I not have the _restraint_ for the job?"

It didn't much surprise Tony that Bruce had a history with the guy, nor did it shock him much to see that Fury looked afraid of Bruce, who was livid but under control. What he hadn't expected was the trepidation in the Captain's stance and behind his eyes.

_Am I the only one in the fucking world who trusts him? What the hell is _wrong_ with these people?_

"Doctor Banner, please calm down." Fury ignored the pointed glare and he got in return smoothly. "I honestly think you'd be more helpful with diffusing the bomb. Remember, our time is limited, and anything about the technology would be of immediate help. If you really think you'd do better going after Drenkov, go ahead. But think about your motives first. Revenge is no friend to logic, and we'd like New York to keep its nickname as 'the city that never sleeps.'"

Fury left just two minutes later after giving them Drenkov's location. They were on their own going after him, at least at first, with S.H.I.E.L.D. distracted by the bomb.

Tony looked to Bruce, wondering whether to be worried and unsure what was actually the right choice. Apparently, though, Bruce had already made one. He sagged under Tony's gaze. "I'll just go with them. I might be able to... figure something out." He looked between Tony and Steve for a moment and spoke with finality. "Just, be careful. He's... he's not really sane anymore, and he likes to manipulate people. Finds your weaknesses."

Rogers nodded. "Thanks, Banner. You watch your back too. We'll get there as soon as we can."

"Don't show off too much," Tony added, smirking half-heartedly. Bruce smiled grimly in reply, and then he was gone.

Bruce was right, as it turned out. When Tony and Cap broke into the warehouse where Drenkov was hiding the physicist appeared almost immediately, graying auburn hair and boxy features gleaming under the low light. He stretched his arms out in a welcome and called out wildly, "Captain America and Iron Man! Welcome to my humble abode. Took you long enough!"

It soon became apparent that Igor Drenkov was off his rocker in the most basic sense of the word. He seemed to believe he was dreaming one moment and dead the next. He spoke to people who were not there just as frequently as he did to those who were. And he hated Americans with an unrelenting passion, he said, more than anything else.

This didn't lend Rogers any favors. Whenever Drenkov had a chance to throw a punch at one of them he invariably chose Steve, and swung all the harder for it. Captain America to a racist man like Drenkov was like a scrawny kid to a bully, representing all that was wrong with the world. He didn't get away with it for long, though; Rogers wasn't very scrawny anymore, and he'd never been the type to tolerate tormenters.

They got him cornered easily after a few minutes of insults and sneers and surprisingly agile dodges. To their annoyance he seemed completely unfazed, cackling at them madly, his burly shoulders shaking. Cap glared and spoke in a low, dangerous voice. "We're not afraid of you, Drenkov."

In response he only laughed some more. "I don't care if you're afraid of me. I know who you're _really_ afraid of. And it's all thanks to me."

"You better not be saying what I think you are," Tony muttered, thinking of a bomb testing site accident years ago.

"Oh, I think I am. But I have to say, Banner had to've been a monster before, too, or he wouldn't have turned into one, would he? He would've died. No, I just dragged it out, green and dark and _rage_ from inside." Tony tried to remain impassive, but he felt the muscles in his jaw jump and his mouth twisted slightly in disgust. He had never been very good at faking calm. "Yeah? You happen to know him?" Tony clenched his jaw tighter but remained silent, watching Cap do the same, both shifting uncomfortably despite the advantage they had over the weaker man. "Afraid of him, aren't you?" Drenkov sneered. "Pretend not to be, pretend everything's okay, but who wouldn't be scared of making such a bad man _angry?_"

Drenkov grinned a wide grin, revealing yellow teeth. Tony hadn't realized he could hate someone so much. Before he'd made a conscious decision to do so he had the man by the throat, pinned against the wall, grinding out words in a growl. "_Go to hell, you fucking bastard! _Bruce is a better man than you could ever _dream_ to be."

The only reason Tony didn't strangle him to death was Steve dragging him away and standing between them, pinning Drenkov to the wall with his shield. They stayed that way until S.H.I.E.L.D. agents arrived five minutes later.

The pair reached Washington Square Park a little before three o'clock. The area had already been evacuated, so the only people there other than Bruce and Nick Fury were a handful of S.H.I.E.L.D. members who, strangely enough, looked very relaxed.

"Aw. You think they did the fun part without us, Cap?"

"Looks like maybe they did. I hope so."

At the center of the group was the bomb, a spherical casing that was now taken apart, revealing a compression chamber and rings going out from the core. Some S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were working on taking it away, but Bruce was beside it, too. He was wearing a S.H.E.I.L.D. shirt he hadn't had on before and his pants were very ragged, which immediately made Tony apprehensive—why would the Hulk be needed for this?—but he looked altogether very calm, examining the bomb and gathering bits of its interior into test tubes. He certainly looked the part of a scientist in that moment; it made Tony smile as they approached.

"So, how's it going here?" Bruce looked up in surprise, and Tony could've sworn he saw a dark look of grit and loss in his eyes before his guard went up and it was gone.

"It's been defused for a few minutes now. The mechanism is a little different from what the technicians were used to, just with the design of the blasting cap and the tamper, but... well, we managed to figure it out."

Tony opened his mouth to ask something, but Cap beat him to it. "But then why are you... did you need the Hulk for something?"

Bruce chuckled a little at his phrasing. "Yeah, I convinced Fury to let me jump it out of here. So if it didn't work when I tried to disarm it, no one else would get hurt. I wasn't sure when exactly it'd reach critical mass, and I thought I could use a chemical reaction to convert the Lithium to one of its isotopes..." Bruce explained the schematics of it, and Tony had no problem understanding that. But he kept noticing one thing as Bruce spoke. "...I didn't think it'd necessarily be one hundred percent effective, but...still the chance it'd blow up on me..."

"Where were you, in case it went off?"

"Oh, somewhere at the edge of New York state, near the border to Canada. No one around for miles. It would've been fine."

With the way Bruce talked about it, it wasn't hard to tell he hadn't quite expected to survive. Cap seemed to be thinking the same thing:

"Couldn't you have just... left it there, to go off? You could've gotten yourself killed, Banner!"

Bruce only shrugged, sighing. "Well, it's like... Tony's little trip to space. I didn't want to chance it killing anyone else. What if there actually _were_ people nearby? And if I couldn't do it in time I would've... you know. At least muffled it." The flippant tone he used while talking about his own death was starting to make Tony feel a little queasy. When he'd brought that bomb into space, it was because he'd known it was the only way to save the city. He hadn't _wanted_ to die. It had just been the right thing to do. But this... he'd been so _sure_ Bruce would never do something to put his life at risk on purpose, but with the tense and almost sinister edge to his voice as he talked about the bomb, it was almost as if...

"Bruce—you didn't... you didn't think it was gonna work. Did you." It wasn't a question.

"Of course I did! What're you talking about?" Bruce chuckled like this was the most ludicrous idea in the world. "I knew how to disarm it. I had it under control," he added in a slightly sarcastic, offended tone, smirking. Tony rolled his eyes and shook his head, but he was also looking at Bruce, at the disappointment in the curve of his shoulders and the empty glint in his eyes.

_You knew, but were you actually planning on stopping it the whole time? You were all alone, with no one nearby—_

_No one to know, to stop you if you wanted to—_

And suddenly, he wasn't so sure anymore.

* * *

A/N: (And the plot thickens.) This was the longest chapter yet and had way more plot (and other characters!) than the others, so hope that suffices at least a little as an apology for the ridiculously long wait. Don't worry, I didn't abandon you guys! Btw, Igor Drenkov is a real character from the comics, and I based the bomb stuff on real nukes but it was pretty much bs. :P Just one chapter left! I can't guarantee that it'll be published really soon, as it's the finale and I have other WIPs and school, etc, but I will publish it. Thanks for reading, as always. :)


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